


Time Together with Time to Spare

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 00:34:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: Jemma is in space, Fitz is on Earth, and all they have to hold on to are the memories of each other. Somehow, somewhere, they'll have to use the strength of their past to find each other in the future.





	Time Together with Time to Spare

When she finally gets a moment to herself, she stares out into the endless void and tries to pretend that this is all a dream. It doesn't matter that her pulse is still racing, or that she still smells the stench of dehydrated bodies. It doesn't matter because it can't be real, because it couldn't have happened again. Honestly, what are the odds of being swallowed by the universe a second time? What are the odds of being flung into a new dimension right after she rescued Fitz from another one?

She stares out into the stars and feels the strength leach out of her, feels her blood turn to lead as her shoulders are weighed down by despair. Why does the universe seemed determined to tear them apart?

* * *

"Jemma?"

She wakes up to the feeling of Fitz shifting against her, and she's almost overwhelmed with the smell of him. Surely, this moment is too good to be true.

"Jemma?"

She offers a murmur in response, burying herself into him as a supreme act of content defiance. He should know better than to taint something as pure as this.

She expects some sort of retaliation, but she's too relaxed to care much what it is. Still, she cracks a curious eye open when it doesn't come, finding that Fitz is watching her.

"Fitz?"

He's worried, and now she's worried about him.

"I thought you never slept past six."

She's not sure what he means until she has a flashback of their Academy days, of all the times Fitz bemoaned her insistence on being in bed by ten. Now that she thinks of it, this is the first time he's ever been able to coax her out of her routine.

If he'd have kissed her back then, it might have been a different story.

"I'm tired," she defends, her argument too honest to have any bite. "We were up late last night."

Talking. They'd mostly been talking. She's in the same position she'd been in most of the night, leaning against the side of Fitz's bed with her head on his shoulder. Between kisses, Fitz had expounded on the vastness of the universe, going off on tangents while Jemma traced the edges of his fingers. Is it possible to be happier than this? She doubts it. All she wants is to go back in time and tell her former self to make Fitz the exception to her self-imposed curfew. If she'd woken up like this ten years ago, slumped against a couch and bathed in the flickering of the telly, she might have decided to abandon a few rules. 

"You sure?"

He's hovering over her, and she takes advantage of his proximity by taking hold of his collar and bringing his lips to hers. She loves him, and, for the first time in a long time, she's dying to tell him how she feels. 

He smiles into the kiss, and she'd tell him right now if she didn't know how much it would scare him. If she could, she would say it plainly, bluntly, in a bumbling ramble that only he would be able to interpret. Instead, she holds herself back. He's given her all the time in the world, and she used that time to weigh her options. Now, she holds to her decision of playing the long game, of holding her tongue while he carefully wades his way into her love. She knows she's being smart, but she also knows the irony in this: she must give him time to heal from the wounds she inflicted during the time he gave to her. Somehow, she still has hope.

She returns his smile as he draws back to look at her, and there's new evidence to support the hypothesis that's been brewing in her heart: despite the pain, the heartache, and the loss that brought them to this point, they've finally made it to a wonderful place. Fitz may not be ready to know that she intends to keep him for good, but he trusts her enough to let her spend the night curled up beside him.

There was a time she feared they would never get this far, and now she sees that this is only the beginning.

* * *

Fitz can't make sense of it. One moment he was being arrested, and the next moment they were gone. How could they have vanished into thin air? How could Jemma have disappeared while he was looking right at her?

There's a pit in his stomach, but his skin still tingles from when she had reached under the table and squeezed his hand. The only thing he knows for sure is that Jemma Simmons had no intention of going anywhere.   

Why, then, is she nowhere to be found?  

His head is spinning as he's trying to figure out where she went, but this clicks instead: he was wrong. He was wrong to ask them to leave him behind. She was right to ask him to stay. The cosmos keeps trying to pull them apart because it's jealous of what they can become. 

He can defy to cosmos.

He just has to find her again.

* * *

He revels in her little squeak as he pulls her in a dark corner, making sure they're out of sight. He never thought he'd be the kind of man who does this, but there's something about waking up with Jemma that makes him feel brave. It's the day spent without her that makes him reckless.

"Fitz!" 

It's a question and an admonishment all in one, and he finds that he's shy about putting his hands on her waist, that he's embarrassed of his desire to bring her closer. If he shows her how needy he is, she might pull away.

The problem is that he simply can't get enough of her. Technically, he's spending more time with her than ever, and most of that time she is tucked under his chin, one arm flung across his torso as she smiles into his shoulder. Maybe it's just that any other part of the day pales in comparison to the bliss that fills the air when she walks into the room. Maybe he's being uncommonly greedy.

"Fitz?"

He's waited too long, and now he's worried her.

"I missed you."

There it is—everything he feels packed into three clumsy words. He wants her to understand the depth of his meaning just as much as he hopes she doesn't understand it at all. Worry leaks out of her expression and seeps its way into his heart, only stopping when she puts her hands on his chest.

There's an easiness to how he follows the silent command to meet her lips halfway. If their very first kiss was a compulsion, a gasping for air after a burial at sea, every kiss after that has been as natural as breathing. This kiss, in a place so secluded that they might as well be their own galaxy, is so intrinsic that it nearly takes his breath away. How did he ever survive without her love? How can he live without stealing loving moments from her? 

When her heels return to stand flat on the ground, he finds his lips chasing after her. She smiles up at him, wise as she ever was.

"I have to go."

Her new job is important—he knows it—but he can't help it if his encircling arms trap her in place. She rolls her eyes at him, and they both smile. She wants to be here—he can see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she curled up with him last night, hear it in her silent sigh. That's what's kept him going these past few weeks. It's the kind of thing that makes him brave enough to let her go.

He only wishes he could silence the voice that says she might not come back.

"Jemma?"

She shocks him by grabbing the hands that now offer her freedom, bringing them up to her lips and smiling as she kisses the backs of his fingers.

"It's temporary," she says, looking up into his eyes. "It won't last forever."

His heart stutters at what he fears before her eyes tell him what she means. 

"Someday you won't have to ask me to stay," she explains. He puzzles over her words until he sees that the curl of the corner of her mouth is more profound.

The job is temporary, he understands. The job is temporary, and they will last forever. That's what Jemma believes.

He stares at her, all but gaping. In all the years they've spent together, he has never been more surprised.

She stares back, expectant, and he clears his throat in a desperate attempt to give her the words she's waiting for. He can only think of one:

"Good."

She rewards him with a smile, then reaches forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

"I really have to go now," she says, "but I'll see you tonight."

He can only nod at her as she leaves, watching her go and then staring into the space she left behind. He has always known that he would love her forever, but if she . . . if her love is the same, then . . .

He stands there, in the dark, turning it around in his head until it fits in the right slot, and he feels like he's glowing.

He feels like the luckiest man in the world.

* * *

She almost had time. Time to start, at least. She had looked out in the stars and begun cataloging anything large enough to provide a gravitational force, but they pulled her away from the window. Now, she half-listens to her captor's ramblings as she tries to make a calculation based on the sliver of space that she saw. If this monolith is like the last one, then it will be subject to the Earth the way Earth's tides were subject to the moon. 

They prod her forward, but they don't stop her from making a plan. She'll find data on this destroyed Earth and find out if the moon still hangs in the sky. She'll discover where and when the portal opened before. He'll come after her, she knows it, but she's desperate to find him first. 

She won't let them waste any more time.

* * *

"Don't ever do that again." 

He looks down to where she's threading her fingers through his, then leans back against the couch. 

"I won't."

She pointedly ignores the easiness of his answer, resting her head on his shoulder for emphasis.

"Don't do it, Fitz."

He leans his cheek on the crown of her head, and she can feel him smile at her. She's smiling, too, in spite of herself.

But she has a right to admonish him, hasn't she? After almost losing him to some strange dimension? He promised that he wouldn't let anything tear them apart again, and it was her duty to make sure he kept it.

"Don't you run off and get kidnapped again," he counters.

She gives something of a scoff in response, and it seems to satisfy him. Still, there was more weight in his words than there should have been. Does he really think . . .?

She buries herself deeper in him, clutching at his shirt.

"I won't," she says.

She wishes it could be a real promise, but they both know that it can't be. She once tried to leave when she thought she was breaking him, and he tried to leave when he thought they were broken. Never have they tried to leave when this was the very best part of their lives. Never, never, have they succeeded in leaving, even when it wasn't. 

Still, there are forces that will pull them apart, regardless of their decision to stay together.

Fitz may, in a desperate fit, have blamed it on a cruel cosmos. In her quiet moments, she wonders if he's right. It's irrational, of course. Blatantly unscientific. But as ridiculous as it is, the evidence keeps mounting. The only silver lining is that it's also piling up to prove a more positive hypothesis.

If there's a force that's trying to pull them apart (and she will never admit that there is), there's a stronger force that keeps them together. If they're in a cosmic battle, it's one of light versus dark and good versus evil, and she has to believe that good will ultimately triumph. She has to make it happen.

She breathes in his scent and decides there is no greater good for her than this, than the feel of his heartbeat under her fingertips. There's no scientific basis for soul mates, but she's finding evidence for that, too. How else can she explain the way they fit together so perfectly? The hell they went through today is erased by the heaven they find in each other's arms, and that is all she can ask for now. She wishes she could ask for forever.

She'd ask for it if she thought the war was won, if she couldn't feel the next battle looming in the distance. Something will try to take him away from her again, and she's already steeling herself for the day when it comes. This is part of the long game she's been playing, this grand plan to keep Fitz by her side forever. She thought convincing him to stay was a monumental task, but she's learning that there are higher peaks to climb.

"Jemma?"

She looks up at him, this brave man she has all to herself. 

"I love you."

He doesn't understand her answer, but he accepts it when she pulls his head down so she can seal it with a kiss. His tension disappears as her hand slides down the side of his face, and his smile is contagious.

The battle will come, but she has him for now, and eventually she'll have him forever. If there's anything written in the stars, it's them.

* * *

He can't believe that he thought Morocco was bad.

He's never been more tired or dirty in his life, and he hasn't even gone that far. All this searching has lead him to a place less than a mile from where he started.

He's bruised and he's bloody, but when he finally finds the white monolith, he finds the courage to stand. The scuffling down the hall fades to background static as he confronts the beast that devoured her and their whole team. He remembers the last time he stood in a room like this, shaking with rage in a desperate attempt to cover his fear. It's strange how the scariest thing he's ever done has prepared him for something too terrifying to conceive of.

He's sure there's data on the monolith somewhere, but there's no way he could access it. They have to know exactly where this portal leads. If the timer at his feet is correct, they at least know when the portal will open.

He doesn't have so much as a grain of sand to go on, but in fourteen seconds, he'll find out everything he needs to know.

There's a crash behind him, and he clenches his fists. He should have fought Mack off last time. He should have camped out behind the caution tape the very first day. He will not make the same mistake now.

There's a thundering of boots as the monolith melts, but he doesn't flinch at either.

He looks down at the milky tar that snatches him by the legs, smiling as he is pulled into the abyss.

* * *

He wakes to find her in his lap. 

He peers down at her in confusion, the same way he did her first morning back from Maveth. The difference is that there is no darkness in the creases around her eyes, that the only pain in this room resides in his own heart. 

He doesn't know how she can sleep so peacefully the morning after he shot her—he's not sure why she's here at all. She must have snuck out of their room in the night, creeping into the containment unit as he slept. He wonders if she somehow managed to calm his restless heart, if she's the reason he was able to sleep at all. He's still sitting up, though she lays across the bed, and his sore muscles can't stop this from being the happiest he's been in a lifetime. He doesn't deserve this light, but it would be wrong to stifle it. It would be just as wrong to wake her. So he sits there, trapped in the blessings of another man's life, bathed in the joy he would happily call his own if he hadn't turned himself into a monster.

This is what his mother would do, in her own way. She'll never know about Maveth or the Framework, but Fitz had stayed in Jemma's room that night because that's what his mother taught him to do. If she were here today, even if she'd seen the worst he could be, she'd be brave enough to keep loving him. Does this mean that Jemma's love is just as strong?

He's not sure if he's ever known how to love anyone as much as he knows how to need them. He needed his mother and Jemma. There is no truth more evident than that. He's helpless now, still needing Jemma even as he's disqualified himself from being in her life. Maybe, over time, he can strip away his selfishness and learn to love her again. But can he give her the distance she deserves when she insists on staying close? He's not sure if he has the strength to push her away. He always thought that her selflessness could temper his greed, but now he wonders if it will destroy them both.

"Fitz."

He's startled before he realizes that she's still asleep. Is she dreaming of him, of how he used to be? He's not sure how he can explain that the man she loved was murdered in the Framework, but he's sure she'll find out eventually. Maybe leaving would be selfish, after all. Maybe he needs to be brave enough to let her reject him.

But she clutches at him now, the fabric of his pants in her fist. In his entire Framework life, he had never know anything as gentle and pure. He knows, now, how blessed he was. He was selfish when she left for Hydra and when he told her they were cursed. He's been selfish every second they've been together, but he can atone for those sins and wait for her to work out the truth he knows in his heart. He'll stay with her until she can't stand him anymore.

For now, he runs his fingers through her hair as she gives him a sleepy smile. Everything he'll do will be to keep her happy and safe. He'll give her his whole life. He ruined himself by dedicating his life to someone who lead him down a dark path, so his only hope now is to go wherever Jemma leads.

He feels his heart clench when she stirs. They've had so many mornings like this, cocooned in their bed with the weight of the world just outside the door. 

* * *

"Jemma!" 

The world shrinks until he can see nothing but her. He doesn't care who he has to push out of the way; all he cares about is getting to her. 

Why doesn't she turn to see him? 

It's like there's a wall of glass between them. It's like he's swimming to her instead of running. Daggers of doubt prick his heart, but he knows it's her, even if her forehead is painted gold, even if she doesn't care when he calls out her name.

He doesn't look at who or what he stumbles over, but when she's within his reach, he clutches at her sleeve, more hungry to hear her voice than he's been hungry for anything in his life. 

"Fitz?"

She's so shocked that it's like she had the wind knocked out of her, and he almost pulls away before her hands grab him by the elbows, before her sparkling brown eyes find his. 

"Fitz," she says, smiling so wide that every ounce of his fear melts away. "Fitz," she says, this time as a whisper. Her arms slip around him as she rests her forehead on his shoulder, and he knows that everything he's done, everything he's suffered, has been worth it.

* * *

"What?"

He doesn't know why she's smiling or how to stop himself from aping her.

"What is it?"

She takes another bite of her breakfast about as primly as any woman could, divulging her secrets with her eyes.

"My hair?"

He tries to fix it before it even occurs to him that she has no room to speak, seeing as he's sure her bedhead belongs in a book of world records. Somehow, she's still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.  She moves to fix it herself, and he finds himself frozen as she combs her fingers through his curls. She knows exactly what she's doing, and he's stunned. 

"There," she says, brazen enough to mock him with her glare. Before he knows it, she has his face in her hands, peering down at him like she's just found gold. She pauses for a moment, rubbing her thumbs against his stubble, and he's sure his heart stops.

He has always felt this way about her, but it's deeper now, tinged with an appreciation that only grows each time he sees the faith in her eyes. He had always been afraid that she wouldn't see the best in him; now, he knows she sees the best, even though he has shown her the very worst. 

"Come on," she says; "it's almost time."

There's a certain decadence to the fact that they have time, that they're not being rushed from one crisis to another. Through some miracle, they've managed to have time to themselves, and he can see that Jemma doesn't intend to waste it.

He tries to take another bite as she pulls him out of the chair, but the truth is he's happy to obey. She leads him down the hall and to the window where they sat last night, wrapped up in blankets and each other, watching the stars. If it were up to him, they'd have never moved from that spot, or they at least would have never made it out of bed. He still has an ache in his bones, and he knows he could sleep all day if she'd let him. Maybe if he plays along, she'll be open to suggestion. 

She stands before the window and pulls him behind her, wrapping his arms around her and sighing in relief. She must be thinking of the last time they did this, when they held onto each other as the world crumbled under their feet. Now, they have made sure the world will stand solid, but they hold on to each other all the same.

It's a privilege to hold her, to protect her in his small way. He takes his responsibility seriously, letting her lean back on his chest and hoping she feels safe. She stills, and he takes it as a sign of success.

"Look."

He was already looking, but he sees it now: a small glimmer across the horizon that's growing into a spark. He holds her tighter, utterly in awe.

He didn't get it last time, though he thought he did. He had understood, on some level, the importance of standing in the light after cowering in darkness. Now, though, he has served his own sentence in the emptiness of space and the darkness of his heart. He doesn't realize how much he craves the light until it spills over the skyline.

She puts her hands over the arms that wrap around her, pulling him closer. 

"This is what I wanted," she says, almost in a whisper. "This is what I dreamt of."

He's not sure what she means, and he knows it's not the time to ask. Did she dream about them on Maveth? Did she yearn for him at the Lighthouse? He wonders if he's foolish to wonder if it was both, if she dreamt about him at the same time he was dreaming about her. Maybe this is what she wanted the last time they stood before the sunrise.

He drops a kiss into her hair and hopes she will understand that this is everything he's ever wanted.

They watch until the sky is bathed in light, until there's a hope in his heart and warmth in his bones. She brings his hand to her lips and kisses it, unwinding herself from his embrace without letting go of him.

"Come on," she says, "I think we've earned some rest."

He's not used to climbing into bed after sunrise, but he doesn't complain. If his heart was soothed by the sunlight, his sheets are a balm for his bones. Jemma drapes the covers over them, blocking out the light as she takes her rightful place beside him. There is a time and place for all things, he decides, and he hopes she'll stay right where she is, always.

Her hand slides up his chest and rests on his jaw, encouraging him to face her. Some of her hearing has come back, but he still needs to be careful to speak clearly, making sure she can verify his words by reading his lips. She's watching his lips now, and he knows what she needs to see. 

"I love you, Jemma," he says.

He's not sure she got most of his meaning from hearing his words or seeing them. He's not even sure if she hears the words she speaks himself, but he can pull her until she's settled on his chest, her ear right over his heart. He can hold her and say the words over and over again, so the beat of his heart and the rumblings of his chest can plant a seed of truth that will sprout and grow leaves.  

He doesn't know if she'll ever hear the way she used to any more than he knows if he'll heal from the wounds of his own. He's not sure how or why they ended up with these scars, but he knows he'll have everything he needs as long as he has her.

"I love you, Fitz," she says into his shirt. She says it clearly, louder than she has to, and he understands why. Does she love hearing his name as much as he loves hearing hers?

"Fitz," she says, and maybe she knew she needed to give him an answer.

"Jemma," he says, hoping she will never need to question.

She settles against him, and he's never felt more rested in his life. The cares of the world waste away with every breath she breathes, and he hopes his heartbeats return the favor. They lie there, relaxing in each other's arms and happier than they have ever been, and as Fitz drifts off into a peaceful sleep. he knows this is how they'll always be.

He knows this is only the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to my friend and beta, [recoveringrabbit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/recoveringrabbit/pseuds/recoveringrabbit), for telling me no, I don't have to add any more scenes. :) Music to my ears!
> 
> The title comes from _West Side Story_! Credit goes to Rabbit for that as well!
> 
> I regularly post sneak peeks and general ramblings about my writing on [my tumblr](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/tagged/Writings%20of%20Agent%2085).


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